


Out of Love

by PlzdontcallmeVal (vlh114)



Series: Stories in my Head [18]
Category: Being Human (UK), Britchell - Fandom, Mitchers - Fandom, The Almighty Johnsons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-13 22:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlh114/pseuds/PlzdontcallmeVal
Summary: Mitchell walks into a bar where he meets a very interesting man.





	1. Mitchell

The bar was a lot brighter than the establishments Mitchell preferred or was used to.  He liked dimly lit pubs with dark but well worn wood floors and bar stools that had been polished over decades by hundreds of asses.  The garish yellow, orange and brown, geometric patterned carpeting would’ve been enough for Mitchell to back out of anywhere the second he laid eyes on it if he wasn’t supposed to be meeting somebody there.  He still had leaving in his head when the bartender caught his eyes and gave him a nod.

Drawn further into the bar by the nod Mitchell took a seat on the stool closest to the door and asked for a Guinness.

“Sorry,” the bartender said, “all out.”

 _More like doesn’t stock_ , thought Mitchell, “Whatever lager you have then.”  While the bartender got his drink Mitchell looked around some more.  The two young men in the back of the bar who were sitting on an old sofa when he walked in were now involved in a game of darts.  There were more holes in the wall around the board than in the board itself and they didn’t quite know how to keep score but since they hit the board so infrequently Mitchell guessed that it didn’t much matter.  On a stool at the other end of the bar was a thirty-something bald man in board-shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.  Mitchell could swear that he could smell the scent of the ocean’s salt water.  The bartender was a man who looked to be in his late thirties with brown hair and wrinkles around his sad blue eyes.

“Ta,” Mitchell thanked the bartender as a drink was placed on the coaster in front of him.

“You’re not from around here.”

“I’m supposed to meet someone.” Mitchell said as if that explained why he’d come from Ireland.

“Running late, is she?”

Mitchell checked his phone for the time and to see if there were any new texts, “He got held up at work.”

“Oh,” the bartender eyed Mitchell with barely concealed disgust, “ _he_.”  After that discovery the bartender decided that the bald man needed another drink. 

Left to himself Mitchell kept checking his phone hoping a text would magically appear.  One that said, ‘meet me at my place’ would’ve been greatly appreciated. 

The sea smell let him know that it wasn’t the person he was waiting for but the bald man who sat down next to him.  “Don’t worry about him.  He has old fashioned ideas.  Some of us are more open minded.”

“I wasn’t worried.  I can handle myself.”  It was the truth but Mitchell was not about to say why. 

There was a moment of silence when both men took a sip from their glasses then the bald man held out his hand, “Olaf.”

Mitchell shook his hand and introduced himself.

“Something on your mind, Mitchell?”  When the man didn’t respond right away Olaf continued, “I might be able to help, been around a long time, seen a lot of things.  Like I’m sure you have.”

Mitchell eyed the man suspiciously but since he was probably never going to be in that pub or see the man again Mitchell decided to ask, “Do you think it’s possible to run out of love?”

“Run out of love?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve lost that loving feeling?” Olaf laughed at his own joke.  “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.  You fall in love easily and now you think you won’t be able to love this new guy?”

“Yeah, something like that.  I have feelings for him definitely.  We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now. But, I don’t know,” Mitchell ran his hands over his face, “something is missing.”

“How’s the sex?”

“Olaf!” the bartender who had been eavesdropping interjected.  “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re such a prude, Mike.  Get over it.”  Olaf turned back to Mitchell, “Well?”

“The sex is amazing.”

“And afterwards?”

“I used to leave but lately he’s been asking me to stay.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“It feels good but..”

“You think he’s in love with you?  What happens in the morning?”

“Usually more sex then he showers and leaves.”

“Is your relationship just about sex?”

“No, we’ve been out to dinner and to clubs.”

“What makes you think you can’t love him back?”

“I’ve been in love before, a lot, or I thought I was.  What I feel when he’s around is different.”

“How so?” Mike the bartender asked.

“Welcome to the conversation, Mike.” Olaf said.  “Don’t mind him Mitchell, go on.”

“I don’t know what I feel.”

“No warm, fuzzy feelings inside?  Not even after the amazing sex?”

“The sex is amazing but...it’s almost like an emptiness inside at other times.”

“You should tell him then.  Better to get it over with now before he gets in deeper.”

“Maybe I just need more time.  He’s such a great guy.”

“What’s he like?” Mike asked.

“He’s great; charming, funny, considerate, he’s everything you’d want in a partner really.”

“So what’s the problem?  Is it because he’s a man?”  Olaf thought that question would make Mike disappear again.  There were questions he wanted to ask but didn’t want his grandson to flip out.

“No, I’ve had relationships with men in the past,” Mitchell recalled a fling with a man in his army unit back in nineteen fifteen.  He thought he could’ve fallen in love with that man if he hadn’t been killed by Herrick.  He knew Seth had wanted him but had declined the offer more than once.

“What is it then?”

“Mike could you excuse us?”  Olaf got up and nodded to a table at the front of the bar.  Mitchell followed him.  After they had sat down Olaf said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to out you but I know what you are.”

“Sorry?”

“Vampire.  Don’t panic.  I won’t say anything.”

Mitchell stayed in his seat, “How do you know?”

“I can see it.  I’m an oracle.”

“An oracle.”

“Yes.”

Mitchell had seen too much in his long life to discount what he was told. Plus he'd been friends and roommates with a werewolf and a ghost which weren't supposed to exist either, “Can you see the future?”

“Sometimes.  But let’s get back to you and your problem.  Are you afraid you’re going to hurt him?”

“No.  There’s something about his scent that doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Is that the thing that turns you off?”

“No.  If I was turned off I wouldn’t be sleeping with him.”

“Right.  Is it because he’s mortal?”

“I’ve been in love with mortals before.”

“What could it be then?”

“What’s going on over there?” Mike called from across the bar.

“Mind your own business, Mikkel.”

“Mikkel.” Mitchell repeated.  “He has a brother named Mikkel.”

Olaf stared at the vampire across the table from him.  “Is you’re lover’s name Ty?”

“No, but he also has a brother named Tyrone.”

At that moment the bell above the door rang as Anders Johnson walked into the bar.


	2. Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders gets his brother's reactions. What will Mitchell do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The requested sequel. I hope you like it.

All the way from his office to Mike’s bar Anders had hoped that he’d find his lover sitting at the bar or a table ALONE.  What he found and the reactions he got from his family once he got inside were totally unexpected.  Well, maybe not that unexpected even under the best of circumstances.  Mike looked like he usually did, a combination of angry, annoyed and disgusted, like somebody had just shoveled a pile of dog shit onto his floor.  Axl, and his shadow Zeb, wore their usual open-mouthed, wide-eyed stupid look while Olaf, sitting at a table for two with Mitchell looked either amused or stoned; Anders guessed the latter which was usually the case.

Mike was the first to start, “Anders, what the fuck?”

Axl was next but he addressed his remark to Mike, “Ew, don’t say ‘fuck’.  To Anders he said, “So, you’re gay now.”

Since Anders would never have admitted, even to himself, that the real reason he asked Mitchell to meet him at Mike’s was because he was tired of hiding who he really was and wanted a nice chat with his family in the hopes of receiving understanding and acceptance; two things he knew he’d never get, he quickly came up with several options. The first idea was to just walk in, grab Mitchell and run, claiming they were late for dinner reservations; although Mitchell looked more like he’d just crawled out of bed, clothes wrinkled and hair a curly knotted mess (a look Anders preferred when Mitchell was either climbing into or out of his bed).  Idea two was to ignore Mike and sit down with Olaf and Mitchell at the table.  But ignoring his eldest brother would never work and probably end up with insults or worse, like bottles of booze, hurled across the room at him until he either spoke up to defend himself, which he never did, or said “fuck off” and left; the wiser option.  Plan three, do exactly what he did, march straight across the room, grab his lover by the shirt, pull him over and kiss him square on the mouth.

It was quiet for a single heartbeat then Anders registered the “ew” from the back of the room, a “that’s gross” also from the back of the room and a “stop it, that’s disgusting” from the bar area.  Mitchell thankfully responded to his kiss and Anders was lost to any other comments.  When he finally broke away Anders took Mitchell’s hand, “Let’s go.”

Of course he didn’t make it more than a step before Mike had to interfere, “You’re not going anywhere until you explain.”

The explanation Anders offered up was, “He’s gorgeous, a great kisser and amazing in the sack.  And the Irish accent doesn’t hurt.”

There was another “ew” from the back of the room.

“Anders you can’t be serious.”

“Leave him alone, Mikkel.”

“But grandpa…” that slip up was Axl wanting to step up and be in charge like the god he was supposed to be.

“Grandpa?” Mitchell looked at Olaf who looked maybe a few years older than the man he’d addressed.  There was no way he was anybody’s grandfather, at least anybody in the bars’.

“Way to slip up, genius,” Anders said to his youngest brother.

“Shut up, Anders,” was Axl’s response.

Olaf used his long reach to tap his favorite, though he’d never admit it out loud, grandson on the shoulder.  When Anders turned to him he whispered, “He,” indicating Mitchell, “knows I’m an oracle.”

“But he doesn’t know you’re a god,” Anders whispered back.

“He does now,” Mitchell added as he sat back down in the chair he’d vacated when he thought he and Anders were going to get to leave.

“For something that’s supposed to be a secret it seems that more people know than don’t,” Mike complained, having overheard the ‘whispered’ exchange.

Disregarding Mike, Anders told Mitchell, “We’re not crazy.”

To which Michell replied, “That’s too bad because I’d prefer that explanation more than what the truth probably is.”

Anders had to laugh, “Sometimes I would too.”

“Norse gods,” Olaf explained.  “I’m Baldur.  Anders is Bragi…”

“Norse god of bullshit,” Mike supplied as helpful as ever when it came to Anders.

“God of poetry,” Olaf corrected.  “Mike is Ullr…”

“God of afraid-to-use-his-powers,” Anders whispered, lower than before so Mike wouldn’t hear him.

“God of games and winter sports..or something like that,” Olaf couldn’t exactly remember but knew Anders was right.  “Axl, the tall one in the back there,” is Odin.”

“No way,” Mitchell said after taking a quick look in the back, “like Anthony Hopkins in the movies?”

“Except more of a wannabe,” Anders said, also in a low whisper.

“Can we get back to the subject of Anders shagging that guy?” Axl asked now that introductions were over. 

Nobody bothered to introduce Zeb to which he took some offense but didn’t have the courage to say anything.

What happened next made Mitchell’s head spin.  There were insults and threats, demands and accusations hurled across the room but after a few seconds of fighting the abuse with the usual sass and wit Mitchell liked so much Anders seemed to shrink right before his eyes; head bowed, shoulders slumped.  Olaf tried to speak up but was quickly shot down by Anders’s two brothers.  The more Mitchell listened the angrier he got.  By the time it looked like Anders was ready to crawl under the table Mitchell had had enough.

When the Irish stranger stood up the Johnsons fell silent.  They watched him walk to the center of the room, “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself properly.  But first let me say that for brothers,” he shook his head of curls, “that was the worst display I’ve ever seen.  You don’t know Anders at all, you judged him, bullied him, demanded he change without even trying to listen to him.”

“What do you know about anything?” Axl asked.  “He’ll throw you over soon enough.”

“That may be but I know who Anders is and if any one of you follow through on the threats I’ve heard you’ll have to deal with me.”

“Who are you?” Mike asked.

“You don’t want to know, Mikkel,” Olaf warned.

“I’m your worst nightmare.”  Mitchell blinked his eyes black, revealed his fangs and hissed (yes, hissed).  When he felt a warm hand in his he changed back.  “I will never let anyone hurt you,” the Irish vampire said to his lover.

Anders squeezed the hand he was holding, “I know.  Let’s go.”

When the door closed behind them, leaving two gods and one mortal in shocked silence Olaf said, “It looks like Mitchell found his love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't do much editing and it probably shows. The story just poured out while my son was napping yesterday afternoon.


End file.
